Horrascape
by LS of ACO
Summary: 110 years after the metal heads came through the gate, 30 years before Mar made his safe haven...  A metal head platoon leader named Zrahg begins his plan to take over.  Meanwhile, the human village he is supposed to be eliminating grows stronger...
1. 1: Pursuit and Capture

**Author's note: Hello everyone, this is my first time posting on this site, so I hope I'm doing it right. If you've got ADD, just skip down to the part in italics, because reading this intro will probably kill you. **

**First of all, if you're one of those people who only reads these stories because you're desperately in virtual love with with one of the game characters, don't even waste your time here. Because unless it's Kor that you're in love with (in which case you need help), they aren't going to be in this story. This is 99 OCs. Now that I've gotten rid of my entire audience... **

**Second thing: this story is based _totally_ on the first and second games. No Dark Makers or any of that other Jak 3 crap. None. At all. I don't care about it. **

**Now, to anyone who's still reading this, this story is about metal heads. I've always been intrigued by the metal heads, and unhappy that the games didn't go more heavily into their background. I wanted to know what their culture was like, how they behaved among themselves, where they came from, how they defeated the precursors (Jak II based, remember?), why some where red and some blue, and, most of all WHY the humans were able to hold them off until Mar arrived. This story will be dealing with all of these questions, some more than others.**

**And I have to give credit to a story I read on this site a long time ago. "****A Look Into The Life Of A Metal Head" by Ruf-the-juggla-ottsel, while I didn't like the writing style or the story, was the inspiration for the character Zrahg, and the general shape of his plan. Good thing I own nothing, eh?  
**

** Enjoy! **

_The metal head invasion of our world was not as swift one might suspect. Historians call the entire 140 years from the activation of the gate to the founding of Haven City the Dark Age, a name which conjures up images of vast metal head armies, of rivers of Dark Eco, of mutilation and destruction. But in fact, for much of this period, the metal heads were largely lost in what was, for them, an entirely new world. Few came through the gate, and many were killed in the initial battles. It took them at least 20 years to establish a major foothold._

_The_actual _"Dark Age", the period that actually deserves this name, and in which events similar to those of the public's imagination actually did transpire, was in fact far later than most imagine. It was not until around 50 B.H. that the last major pre-Haven human resistance movement was crushed. It was, in fact, the moment when, after 20 years of siege, the citadel was at last broken, the last sage killed, and the silos tapped, that the true Dark Age began. And it did not actually end until the death of the last Kor, almost 300 years after the gate opened, for while Haven enjoyed relative safety after its founding, every other trace of humanity was wiped off the map._

_The entire north was Dark within a year of the tapping of the silos, and it was only then, with the sages crushed at last, that the metal heads were free to spread throughout the world. It truly was a time of darkness. The metal heads were stronger even than in the years of the last Kor, numbering millions, while the humans were weaker than ever, with little technology but what they could steal from the metal heads, and few surviving channelers. The metal heads had gathered vast resources, engineered terrifying new species, and bred until they outnumbered the uncoordinated, starving, terrified and ill-equipped humans almost a hundred to one._

_In fact, the gap in strength was so great that the question must be asked; how did any trace of humanity survive at all, in the 50 years between the breaking of the citadel and the founding of Haven? The answer lies in events that took place, as nearly as we can determine, around 27 B.H. _

_Events that begin with a metal head platoon leader named Zrahg making one very bad decision._

Zrahg crashed through the forest, snarling incoherently, hardly feeling the branches snapping against his armor, slashing vines and trees out of his way. He could hear the scout up ahead, snapping vines and branches in its own panicked flight, but he still couldn't see it. How in Gnarsh the blasted thing could fly through this crap-infested jungle at all was beyond Zrahg. He could barely fit down the path, such as it was, and the scout's wings were much wider than he was. Or perhaps not. At least, not anymore. '_Perhaps,_' thought Zrahg, _'this plan has its drawbacks after all._'

But the drawbacks were nothing compared to what would happen if this scout managed to get back to Kor, or even merely west into Itaritz's territory. Oh, how it would make Itaritz's moon, getting Zrahg executed. That bastard had always hated Zrahg.

Itaritz felt (or so it seemed to Zrahg) that Spiderheads (or Nyavron, as they were called in Horra) like Zrahg were second class; surely not worthy of a village-elimination assignment. Or at least not while a Wielder (Vyaril) like Itartiz was stuck patrolling terrain that had been conquered for hundreds of moons. Similarly, Zrahg felt that Itaritz was a mindless sycophant (as opposed to a sadistic narcissist, as was normal for Horra Quan). The two hated each other. Then again, few greater Horra Quan ever felt anything but hate, except perhaps jealousy and contempt. They hated their equals, were jealous of their superiors, and held their inferiors in contempt. Lesser Horra Quan, of course, did not feel any of these things. They killed, ate, and obeyed.

Too bad these damn scouts weren't lessers.

Zrahg wished, for the thousandth time, that Kor hadn't changed how he sent his messages. Zrahg hated these scouts. He could still remember the days when messages were carried to platoon leaders by wasps, which were intelligent enough to speak, even if they couldn't really think. He would have had no trouble with a wasp. It probably wouldn't even have noticed what he had been doing, and if it had, would have stopped when he told it to. But not so with these new scouts.

Scouts were a relatively new species of Horra Quan, created by Kor to scout distant, as-yet unconquered areas, and to carry messages to his forces in the field. They were technically greater Horra Quan, since they had free will (the proper Horra name for their kind was Klinvixle), but they were looked upon as somewhat third-class, and none had yet reached official maturity. Terinix, Zrahg's second-in-command, had once said that scouts had all the disadvantages of greater and lesser Horra Quan put together, and none of their benefits. Zrahg was feeling more and more inclined to agree, smashing though this Gnarsh-blasted jungle, trying to stop this damn scout.

The sound of the scout's chaotic progress was getting fainter. Zrahg cursed viciously and sped up. Gnarsh, how could it keep going like this, through this cursed half-jungle, having flown all the way from the nest? Scouts weren't built for sustained flying; they spent most of their time gliding, which was out of the question in the confines of the jungle path. At least Kor hadn't designated this village important enough to begin Horra-forming the area around it; there weren't nearly enough Horra Quan there to jump-start the process on a large scale, and it was so far confined to a few mutated plants. Which was a good thing, however unsettlingly alien this place might look, even to those like Zrahg who had never seen another world; Zrahg would have no chance of catching the scout in the relative open of a Horra-formed landscape.

If that damn scout got away it would ruin everything. All his work, all his practice, all his careful scheming. He couldn't deny it anymore; a not-so-close examination would reveal exactly what he was doing, as would a not-so-hard questioning of his troops. Even the stupidest ones had begun to catch on, and were afraid. If nothing else, Kor would kill him for disobeying his orders about destroying the village. And if he even suspected the rest of it, which, with this scout's memories of what it had seen intact, he would, Zrahg would be tortured first. Zrahg had heard from the last scout, which, unlike this one, had a bad habit of gossiping with platoon leaders when it was supposed to be carrying messages (it was always something with these damn scouts), that Kor had devised some new method of torture. Something about acid. Zrahg hadn't paid much attention at the time. The scout had gone on for a long time, and Zrahg had found its high-pitched voice very annoying. Now he was beginning to wish he had listened a bit more. Damn scouts! Damn Itaritz! Damn this jungle!

Where was he anyway? Zrahg didn't recognize this place. The trees were starting to become different. Taller, thicker, father apart. And fewer vines dangling from their branches. More of a forest than a jungle. Which meant he was getting farther west. How long until he entered Itaritz's territory? He had to be quite a distance from the human village now, and he couldn't really count on Itaritz staying within his own boundaries. Itaritz, damn him, was always sending spies over the border, hoping to catch Zrahg doing something wrong. The thought that he might actually do so made Zrahg physically sick. The thought of being caught at all was bad enough, but by Itaritz? Zrahg suddenly vowed that he would be sure to kill Itaritz if this scout got away, to avoid the humiliation of being caught by him. And it was looking more and more likely that the scout would get away. He could hardly hear it anymore.

Then Zrahg realized that the sound was not getting fainter because the scout was getting further away. It was getting fainter because the creature was tiring. About time! Zrahg raised his arm and fired a few Dark Eco bolts through the gradually-decreasing gloom, noticing with satisfaction that they were now noticeably bigger than was normal for Nyavron blasts.

Then, in the purple light of a Dark Eco blast, he saw it! The scout was just ahead, breathing heavily in exhaustion. Zrahg took aim and fired. The scout fell, skidding and bouncing and rolling. It screamed in pain, a high-pitched, metallic sound, and tried to get up again. The sound would have made any human cover its ears, but Zrahg merely grimaced in annoyance and resolved to end this quickly, before the blasted thing's shrieking alerted someone. He fired another bolt of Dark Eco, blasting the scout backward into a tree, which fell with a crash. Zrahg snarled and took a flying leap, landing on the scout's chest. He slammed his front legs down onto its wings, pinning them. Purple-black blood welled up as his claws pierced the skin. The scout screamed and snarled, foam flying from its mouth. It snapped at him, but its short neck could not reach any part of the Nyavron's body. Zrahg looked down at the thing with contempt.

He slashed it through the heart. There was no point in wasting more Eco by blasting again, when it could be so easily dispatched by hand. Besides, the weaponized Eco spoiled the meat. Now that he had killed this thing, there was no sense in wasting the meat either. It was rare that he was able to eat Horra Quan; there was usually little time to do anything but his ritual with the dead ones, what with the rest of his platoon lurking about.

And there was also no sense in not performing his ritual. There was no one here to see.

After making sure that Itaritz (damn him) hadn't sent any spies this way, Zrahg turned to the scout and began his ritual. He tore off the creature's head roughly, lifted it to a more comfortable height, then seized the skull gem and ripped it off. There was a soft crunch as the scout's skull cracked. Zrahg scraped off a few of the larger bits of bone, and then threw the gem to the ground roughly. No point in being gentle; the blasted things were all but indestructible, as his early attempts at the ritual had taught him.

He rummaged through his little bag, looking for an Eco crystal. Most Horra Quan did not have any possessions, except perhaps a weapon or two; they didn't want or need them, and they certainly didn't carry them around in bags. Zrahg didn't really want them either, but he did need them, and he couldn't very well carry raw Eco crystals around in his claws all day; the things burned, even for an Eco chaneller like Zrahg, and they would have attracted attention. Eco crystals, especially the kind that could be re-used, were supposed to be transported directly to Kor. So Zrahg now carried a nice little leather food bag he had found on a dead human solider, in which he kept Eco crystals, and, since he never had enough crystals to fill the bag, a few other odds and ends. The fact that the little bag made all of his possessions smell slightly of Yakow jerky was, in Zrahg's opinion, its best feature.

After rummaging through the various bones, crystals, trophies, and bits of bloody hair, Zrahg found a re-usable crystal that he had filled with Green Eco. He looked at it for a moment, began to put it back in the bag, then decided he could use a little pick-me-up after all. He placed the crystal on his palm and drained a bit out of it. The Eco felt wonderfully cool as it traveled up his arm, restoring the energy he had lost chasing the scout. The few minor scratches he had sustained in the chase vanished with a flourish of green sparks. That was better. He put the green crystal back.

Finally he found a dark crystal. Carefully, for such concentrations of Dark Eco could be harmful even to Horra Quan, he extracted it from the bag, and unwrapped it from the little cloth in which he kept it. The cloth fell apart almost as soon as he touched it. That was the problem with Dark Eco; it was very hard to carry around. Little could withstand prolonged contact with Dark Eco without dissolving. Which was exactly why he carried it.

Zrahg held the crystal gently between two claws. Unlike the skull gems, Eco crystals, especially ones that had been refilled several times, were quite fragile. And if it broke, the Dark Eco blast would be worse than the humans' Eco guns. It wouldn't be fatal, at least not for Zrahg, but it was still definitely something to avoid.

With a gentleness that he reserved for such things, Zrahg placed the tiny crystal on the skull gem, still holding it in his massive claws. He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and concentrated on pushing the Eco out, into the skull gem.

Horra Quan chanellers were very, very rare. In fact, Zrahg had never heard of another one, and he had lived a long time. Of course, all Horra Quan had minor channeling abilities. They could drink in Dark Eco with their hands (or claws), their metabolisms accelerated when they stood in a Blue Eco vent, they were stronger than normal with Red Eco, and so forth. But these effects were very limited, even more so than for non-channeler humans, and channeling often left Horra Quan exhausted.

But Zrahg was different. He could sense high concentrations of Eco from great distances, double his speed with Blue Eco, tear through solid rock with Red (he had tried it) and do a lot more than shoot sparks with Yellow. And, most importantly, he could draw in or repel almost any kind of Eco. This not only made him partially resistant to Eco blasts, as long as he knew they were coming, but also let him perform his little ritual.

Once, when he was young and the talent newly discovered, he had questioned Kor about it. He knew all about human channelers, of course, having seen several in action, and had merely asked Kor if Horra Quan ever exhibited channeling abilities. Luckily he had phrased the question in such a way that he did not reveal what he could do, because Kor had become extremely angry. He had raved in the ancient tongue, which Zrahg had not yet been taught, and then demanded that the channeler be brought to him. Zrahg had wisely insisted that there was no chaneller, he had just been curious. Zrahg still wasn't sure what Kor had really thought, but Zrahg was still alive, so he either didn't guess or approved.

Nothing was happening to the blasted skull gem. Zrahg snarled and pushed the Eco harder. Finally, just when Zrahg was beginning to think he would have to find a Dark Eco pool to re-fill the crystal, and risk discovery by Itaritz (damn him), the skull gem began to glow. Zrahg gingerly put the now almost-empty Eco crystal on some moss, and reached out a claw to tap the skull gem. It made a small dent. That would do. He slid his claws through the previously impenetrable outer shell, into the jelly-like fluid inside, and absorbed the Dark Eco, taking the skull gem fluid along for the ride.

As always, there was a moment of weakness, a sharp pain, and then a fantastic feeling of increased power. Zrahg looked down at himself. He didn't notice any difference, but he hardly ever did with single skull gems. But they added up. Zrahg was quite sure that he was the strongest Nyavron in the history of his race. And now he was even more so. Zrahg's face preformed the Horra Quan equivalent of a grin. That made 31 he had absorbed.

Zrahg took another small shot of Green Eco, since as much Dark Eco as he had just absorbed could be harmful. He ate the scout's heart and a few other choice organs, drank a few cups of blood from its neck, and ripped off one of its canines as a trophy. He dropped the little tooth in his bag, where it made a clinking sound against the Eco crystals. That done, he then blasted the carcass to oblivion. It wouldn't do to have Itaritz find a half-eaten scout with no skull gem and several Dark Eco burns. After taking care of the body, Zrahg picked up the empty Eco crystal, wrapped it in one of his spare cloths, placed it carefully back in his little bag, and set off back to the camp.

He had taken about 20 steps when he sensed the Eco behind him. Dark Eco, that hadn't been there a moment before. Which could only mean one thing. Zrahg spun with a roar, caught the pouncing Horra Quan in mid leap, and slammed it viciously to the ground. It was an ape. Actually, they were called Griwahlk, but, like scouts, they were considered low-class greaters, so everyone ended up calling them apes. Zrahg jammed his claws against the ape's neck, pinning its head to the ground.

"Who in Gnarsh are you?" Zrahg spat, lowering his face to just a few inches above the ape's. "What's the meaning of this? Do you have any idea who I am? Whose platoon are you in?"

The ape made an odd sound, like a yawn a burp and a roar all put together. Zrahg wasn't sure what the noise was supposed to signify, but he did not consider it a satisfactory response. "Talk, you blasted ape," he snarled to the thing beneath him, "or I'll tear your head off and sell it to the humans as a trophy!" Of course, Zrahg had already decided to kill the thing, although he certainly wouldn't make good on the last part of this threat. Oh no. That would be wasteful. He would soon be absorbing this ape's skull gem fluid, and perhaps seeing if its heart was worth eating. But first, it would answer his questions.

The ape gave off another meaningless warble. Zrahg snarled and was about to give the thing a taste of his power (impaling it on a tree branch would be good. He knew how to miss all the vital organs, to ensure that his interrogation subjects didn't die before he was through with them), when something tapped him on the chin. He looked up and saw a gun barrel.

"Well, well, well…" came a soft voice. "Look whom we have here, Serilid."

Zrahg looked up a few more inches, and saw Itaritz's smug Vyaril face grinning down at him.

"Well, well, well…" said Itaritz again. "How nice it is to see you again, Zrahg. You're looking…well. Having any luck with that troublesome village yet?" Zrahg didn't answer. Itaritz's grin widened. "No? A shame…must keep up the effort, dear Zrahg. Otherwise, some of us might get the impression that you aren't… _trying_."

Zrahg heard a muffled rasping off to the left. Serilid, Itaritz's second-in-command, was laughing at his commander's wit. Zrahg curled his lip in disgust. Serilid was, if possible, even more disgusting than Itaritz. He was a Nyavron, like Zrahg, though Zrahg liked to think that that was where the similarity stopped. Huge and stupid, Serilid had an odd way of moving, as if his body were somehow too big for his brain to properly control. He rarely spoke. In fact, he rarely did anything that was not specifically commanded by Itaritz. Zrahg could almost understand Itaritz's low opinion of Nyavron, considering that Serilid had been Itartiz's shadow for as long as Zrahg could remember either of them. Zrahg wouldn't have thought much of the race either, had Serilid been his primary example of it.

Itaritz was the exact opposite of his second. Unusually small, he was a notoriously efficient fighter, and also somewhat paradoxically the only Horra Quan that Zrahg had ever heard of who would rather talk than fight. Itaritz loved to talk. His voice was irritatingly smooth, without a trace of a growl. It gave him an odd accent, which Zrahg found annoying.

Itaritz seemed to notice Zrahg's expression of disgust at the two of them, because his grin widened even further. The grin was so wide that if he squinted a bit, Zrahg could almost imagine that Itaritz's head had been slashed open. He did so. It rather spoiled his daydream when Itaritz continued speaking.

"Now, now, Zrahg, we mustn't get too angry at our fellow Nyavron... After all, _Serilid_ is a loyal servant of mighty Kor…and myself, of course." Zrahg couldn't help but notice the emphasis on Serilid's name. He didn't say anything.

"So," drawled Itaritz, "What brings Zrahg the _Nyavron_" -his normally oily tones became a more typical Horra Quan snarl as he spat Zrahg's species name- "into _my_ territory on this _excellent_ day? And what might he be blasting, so very loudly and carelessly? And _what,_" -Itaritz glanced down the ape-"might he be doing to my soldiers?"

"I was on my way to the nest," growled Zrahg stiffly. "To get more troops. This lunatic ape tried to tackle me."

"The mental condition of _my_ soldiers is hardly in question," said Itaritz in his infuriatingly offhand way. "But let us focus on the matter of what you are doing here. You say that you sought more soldiers?"

Zrahg grunted.

"I see. And why did you not merely send our Great Leader a message? Surely he would be more than happy to provide additional forces to such a _vital_ effort as your elimination of the famously-stubborn Red Village?"

Was that what the village was called? Zrahg didn't even remember. It had been weeks since his platoon's last actual engagement with the human village. What did it matter anyway? A human village was a human village. "Out of flyers," he grunted. He wasn't a very good liar.

"Of course. But surely you could have sent a messenger of some kind? Surely your time would be better spent on the front lines? After all, the humans must be putting up an exceedingly good fight, what with all your recent losses…"

"What would you know about my losses?!" snarled Zrahg, hoping, irrationally, as there was no one to hear, to catch Itaritz admitting that he sent spies into Zrahg's territory on a regular basis. There was also a trace of panic in his voice. '_What if_,' said a little voice in his head, _'Itaritz already knows about the ritual?!'_

But Itaritz merely grinned and said smoothly "Oh, I see the replacements passing through. You'll find that there is…_little_ which transpires in my territory without my knowledge and approval."

Throughout this entire conversation, no one but Serilid (who had been bouncing around in excitement at the confrontation) had moved an inch. The ape that Zrahg had tackled made another odd grunting sound. Itaritz glanced down at it. "Please remove yourself from that Griwahlk, dear Zrahg," he said in a careless tone. "After all, it wouldn't do to have you rip up my dear soldiers. Since I am not part of such a vital assault effort as you, my friend, they might not be replaced as quickly, our Great Leader's time being _limited_." Itaritz's smirk seemed intensify as Zrahg roughly shoved the ape out of the way and got to his feet. He carefully avoided standing to his full height, as the fact that he was now, due to his ritual, noticeably taller than even the giant Serilid, would not bode well for him if noticed. But even so, he towered far above Itaritz, but any thought of battle was reluctantly banished from his mind as he saw six other Horra Quan standing behind his enemy.

Itaritz's expression did not change, nor did the position of his weapon. They stood there a moment, Itaritz grinning in his infuriately knowing way, Zrahg wistfully thinking of ways to kill Itaritz.

Itaritz's eyes zeroed in on the bag strapped over Zrahg's shoulder. "And what have we here?" he asked slyly. "Gifts for the leader, perhaps?"

Zrahg growled. "It's just-"

Suddenly Zrahg found himself on his back with Serilid's massive silhouette filling his vision. The bag was torn roughly from his shoulder. He felt considerable pressure on his chest. That idiot Serilid was standing on him! He heard Serilid's rough rasp of a voice.

"Here, sir," grunted Serilid.

"Ah, thank you, Serilid," replied Itaritz's sneering tones. There was a pause. "Eco crystals. High grade. Very high grade." Another pause. "Help our comrade to his feet, Serilid." The pressure was lifted from Zrahg's chest, and Serilid dragged him to his feet. Zrahg glared at the oaf, then turned to Itaritz, who was twirling a Red Eco crystal between his claws. "And what might we be doing with _these_, my friend?" asked Itaritz, keeping his eyes locked on the crystal. "Why, we both know that all Eco crystals must go directly to Kor. Especially such high-quality Eco crystals as these, which would be so helpful in our efforts…"

Inspiration struck Zrahg like an Eco blast. "Exactly!" he thundered with convincing indignation. "You expect me to trust messengers with crystals this valuable?!" Itaritz seemed slightly surprised by Zrahg's outburst, but he quickly recovered his usual calm.

"Trust?" he said, making the word sound somehow shattered and meaningless. "You mean to suggest that our fellow Horra Quan are untrustworthy?" He laughed. "Surely you cannot suggest that a lesser Horra Quan would betray our Great Leader?"

Zrahg scoffed, warming to his story. "You expect me to send lessers carrying valuable crystals through your territory? So you can order them to stop, and then give the crystals to Kor yourself?" Itaritz stood a bit straighter.

"I would never hamper an errand of the Leader," he said fiercely, his calm evaporating.

"You're doing it now," said Zrahg, with all the considerable contempt he could summon. Itaritz looked at him for a long moment. Zrahg wondered if he was going to throw the crystal at him and kill him. Or _try_ to kill him. What a surprise he would get when he found the explosion focused back at him. '_Do it, you bastard_,' Zrahg thought with sudden savagery. _'Just try it. Let's see how many of your cronies I can take out with the deflection_.'

Then, very slowly and without ever taking his eyes from Zrahg's face, Itaritz put the crystal back in the bag and handed it to Zrahg.

"Oh course," he said softly. "One mustn't interfere with such things."

"Ha!" said Zrahg, who was beginning to see why Itaritz liked doing this type of thing to him so much. "I just hope you and your _pet_ haven't damaged them!" He glared at the group of them with contempt for a moment, then shouldered his way through Itaritz's soldiers. That hadn't been so bad after all. He could just walk to Dervahlix's territory, then double back to his own through Ogzdravixit's-

"Wait just a moment, dear Zrahg!"

Zrahg felt a large sinking sensation in his chest. He paused, took a breath to collect himself, then turned back to face Itaritz slowly, trying to suppress the pained grimace that had crept onto his face. "What now?" he said, going for a tone of righteous contempt. It came out as more run-of-the-mill contempt.

"You raise an excellent point, my friend," said Itaritz in his infuriatingly smooth voice. "Such Eco crystals as those are a vital asset to our forces, and while _I_ would certainly never think of interfering with such an important operation as their transport to our leader-"

_'Gnarsh he loves to hear himself talk' _thought Zrahg.

"-, or indeed any of our Great Leader's noble efforts in our just battles of conquest, others are not always so trustworthy." It took Zrahg a moment to realize that Itaritz had stopped speaking, and then another to remember what he had been talking about.

"I'll be careful, then," he grunted fiercely. He turned to go.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

"While I'm sure you will, dear Zrahg," called Itaritz, "you have just proven, by your capture just a few moments ago, that you are no match for any fraction of a full platoon. I think it best if I, and several of my soldiers, accompany you."

"I don't want any Gnarsh-damned _apes_," Zrahg spat. "If I did, I'd have brought my own. I told you, lessers and near-lessers can't be trusted with these." _'And besides'_, said Zrahg silently, _'I can just kill you if you come alone._' But Itaritz just grinned wider.

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that, my friend. _These_ soldiers have just proven their loyalty and trustworthiness in the matter, by letting you go at my order."

Zrahg cast around for another excuse. "I really _appreciate_ it Itaritz," he growled through his teeth, "but don't you think that you should stay here? It wouldn't be good to have two territories in a row without their platoon leaders at the same time."

"Oh, I'll trust Serilid to handle things," said Itaritz offhandedly. "And I trust that Terinix is dependable, as you have already trusted him with command of your platoon?"

Zragh grunted a reluctant affirmative.

"Well then," said Itaritz with a smirk, "Let us go, my _friend_. It wouldn't do to keep our Great Leader waiting."

"No," said Zrahg through gritted teeth, "it certainly wouldn't."

Itaritz smiled, motioned to three of his soldiers to follow, and said "Lead the way."

Zrahg turned and began stomping through the forest with 4 Horra Quan who wanted him dead behind him, off to see Kor, who would probably gut him as soon as he got a good look at his ritual-enhanced body.


	2. 2: The Horrascape

**Hello again everyone. Or should I say just one? Ah well. Thanks for the review, guy who reviewed. I'm glad you like it. Here's a short chapter where nothing happens. :) Oh yes, and capitalization changes are now in effect. Horra quan really shouldn't be capitalized. Neither should Eco, really, but hey, it's capitalized in the game subtitles. At least, I think it is. Anyway, enjoy!**

The journey to the Nest was not fun. Scouts, souring on thermals high above the rugged, half-horraformed landscape, could cover the distance between the Nest and Zrahg's territory in a matter of hours. It took Zrahg, Itaritz and the apes three days.

They didn't stop for any real length of time on the journey. There was no reason to. Horra quan did not sleep, and Dervahlix and the other platoon leaders through whose territory they passed were more than willing to provide them with food, once Itaritz had gleefully explained the situation to them. They nearly always chuckled at Zrahg's obvious predicament, thinking that he had merely tried to keep the Eco crystals for himself. In fact, more than one offered to accompany them in hopes of seeing Zrahg tortured to death at the end. Horra quan could always appreciate the art of causing pain, and Zrahg was not exactly popular. He had held too good a frontline assignment for too long, or so it seemed to the other platoon leaders. Fortunately, Itaritz turned them all down.

Nor did anyone speak for the duration of the journey, except during their brief conversations with the platoon leaders. There was nothing to say. Zrahg and Itaritz both understood what was going on (_'Or we both '_think_' we do,'_ thought Zrahg with a slight smile) and the apes could not have cared less. They spared and wrestled during the brief food negotiations, while Zrahg glared around, trying to look smaller than he was and thinking furiously about how he was going to get out of this one. He didn't come up with anything. Oh, he might be able to kill Itaritz and the apes, with the element of surprise and an exploding Eco crystal or three to tip the odds, but, as much as he hated to admit it, this was unlikely to work. 31 absorbed, most of them lessers or low-class greaters like the scout, was not yet enough to make up for Itaritz's skill and the combined strength of three apes. And even if he were successful in killing them, what good with that do? He would be out in the middle of nowhere, probably wounded, and with no explaination to give the platoons that Itaritz had spoken to, no good answer to the question of why the platoon leader he had just been seen with was dead, and why he had not gone to the Nest. No, it was not worth the risk unless he was sure it would work.

As for stopping to rest, Zrahg was torn between his intense desire to avoid being gutted by Kor, a keystone of which was staying far, far away from the Nest, and the fear that Itaritz would notice his. . . enhancements. . .if they stopped moving to rest. Of course, it was obvious that Itaritz wanted this little farce to end as quickly and violently as possible, and was therefore eager to get to the Nest. But Zrahg also suspected that the old schemer was worried that Zrahg would kill him in his sleep if given the slightest chance. Under normal circumstances this would have been precisely correct, but Zrahg knew that, unfortunately enough, he wasn't going to be able to fight his way out of this one. This was a classic Itaritz trap, achieved through brain rather than brawn, and Zrahg didn't know how to get out of it.

During the first day they traveled through territory much the same as Itaritz's, the typical forest-jungle of the southern regions; thick trees, thicker moss, the occasional hang vine hanging from a tree branch, and, rarely, a Dark Eco-mutated bush or shrub.

But as they turned northwest on the second day, the last vestiges of jungle melted from the forest. By the time they had passed through Tilnzahlk's territory, the second closest of the southern platoon territories to the Nest itself, the thick moss that had covered the trees and ground for most of the journey was gone, replaced by grey, ash-like soil which billowed around their feet as they walked. Trees became fewer and fewer, and smaller and smaller. On the end of the second day, they finally faded out altogether, leaving only a scattering of low, rough, Dark Eco-mutated bushes. They passed through Linzrahln's territory, the last on the way to the Nest, quickly, without stopping for food or meeting a single member of his platoon. Zrahg didn't know much about Linzrahln. In fact, he wasn't even sure which race of horra quan he belonged to. But he got the impression, from their increased speed and Itaritz's worried glances around, that Linzrahln did not like Itaritz anymore than most platoon leaders liked Zrahg. Zrahg resolved to become good friends with the platoon leader if he survived this.

Throughout the day, as they marched first through Linzrahln's territory, and then through the commander-less zone surrounding the Nest, the ground became rocky and uneven, and began sloping noticeably upward. The once-loose ash/soil no longer billowed around their marching feet; it was tightly compacted now, though it still somehow managed to give off an immeasurably fine grey dust, which coated absolutely everything and was nearly impossible to get off. Not that they stopped to try. Normal, planet-native animals would probably have choked on it, aspirated as their lungs filled with it, and eventually suffered nerve damage as the finer particles damaged the connections between their neurons and degraded their bodily tissues. But the bodies of the five horra quan simply filtered it out, like the unneeded carbon-dioxide from the atmosphere. In fact, they breathed deeply, taking comfort in this air that was so much closer than usual to the atmosphere of the planet on which their ancestors had been born, for life on which they had evolved. Where they belonged.

The dust hung heavily in the air, like a dry, choking fog, lowering the temperature to only slightly above freezing, even in the middle of the summer. It blocked the setting sun almost completely, yet somehow gave off a silvery, glowing, almost-moonlight of its own all throughout the night. A human could only have seen about 20 feet at best through the dust, but the five horra quan could see through the dust almost as well as they could see outside of it. It was, after all, _their_ environment of choice.

No human resistance which still existed, or indeed, had ever existed, was of the slightest threat to the horra quan Nest; no human could survive the journey to the Nest. Even if they had known where the Nest was, even if they would not have gotten hopelessly turned around in the fog and the dust, even if thousands of horra quan had not been there to stop them, they still would have been no threat at all. The environment itself defeated them. Humans could not live here, any more than they could live at the bottom of the ocean. It was an alien world, transplanted on to this one like a branch grafted on to a fruit tree.

Zrahg first sensed the Eco that night, felt it like someone who sees the glow of a fire on the horizon. He gave an involuntary shudder, a mix of his apprehension at facing Kor, and his instinctive excitement at the proximity of such a huge quantity of Dark Eco. Kor would have his head for sure, he thought, but Gnarsh that was a _lot_ of Eco. Even the others, non-channelers with pathetically weak Eco senses, were beginning to feel it by midnight, and became energetic in their anticipation. The tapped silos, the now-focused underground ocean of Dark Eco, the closest place on this accursed planet to home, called out to them.

Finally, at dawn on the third day, the first spire appeared in the distance. 14 feet tall as measured from the ground, it would have been almost twice that had it been straightened out. Black and smooth, it curved upward from the ground in a loose, chaotic spiral; an unutterably alien thing to any creature native to the planet, not discernibly plant or rock or metal or flesh, or even Eco, but its own separate element. The horra quan, even Zrahg, still wishing desperately not to get any closer to Kor and near-inevitable death, took comfort in it; finally, something on this planet that didn't feel so instinctively _wrong_, something that didn't grate their nerves with its mere existence, that didn't make them want to crush it into dust by its very presence.

By the time they passed the solitary spire, many more were visible on the horizon. By the time they passed the first of these, the ground sloped upward at almost 45 degrees, and far in the distance, like the ghost of a mirage, a huge structure on top of a low mountain faded into sight. Once a precursor tower, spires now twined and twisted thickly around it like massive vines strangling a tree. Two noticeable spires exceeded even the tower itself in height, giving the structure the appearance of having horns. A huge chunk had been blasted off the side of the tower, a huge crack reached all the way down one side. The spires twisted in to it and out from it in demented spiral arcs, like predator worms viciously attacking a wound. The precursor citadel, the site of the last stand of the last sage, the last real resistance to the horra quan domination, was now almost unrecognizable.

The wind blew softly and randomly, somehow seeming to go in all directions at once, yet the dust was so fine that it hardly moved. Lightning crackled high above, as huge clouds of the dust brushed against each other. The clouds, the dust, would have been visible from space, had any precursor starships still been there to see it.

Thousands of spires, from tiny newly formed ones only a few inches in height, to massive 300 foot tall ones created during the siege of the citadel, twisted around each other above them, bellow them, all around them, melting into randomly positioned wave-shaped walls, twisting and curving insanely, as omnipresent as the dust. Even from this distance, even through the dust, and the tangled walls of massive spires, Zrahg could see the glow of the Dark Eco canals, flowing from out of the hollowed mountain under the citadel, where Kor, the "Great Leader" of the victorious horra quan, lay in wait.

They had entered the Horrascape.


End file.
